


Ferris Wheel

by SeparationBoundary



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chrollo is not happy, F/M, Jealousy, M/F oral sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seedy Roadside Motel, Vaginal Sex, Yet another love story with smut, yeah I suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 00:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12569936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeparationBoundary/pseuds/SeparationBoundary
Summary: Feitan finds a distraction.A job fails to pan out and a stressed Chrollo doesn’t react well.





	Ferris Wheel

Feitan knew Chrollo wasn’t happy.  Well maybe not _not happy_ but not satisfied.

They’d come into town to hammer out a deal.  No one had told them that there was some sort of international convention going on.  Because of it, The Phantom Troupe had been unable to find a hotel - much less a nice one - and so had been forced eventually to take rooms at the C’mon Inn, a seedy roadside motel on the outskirts of town.  

Then they were informed that they might have to wait a week to talk to their contact.

Chrollo seethed.  It may sound petty but Chrollo was used to some things; luxury, convenience, and getting his own way.  He’d spent too much of his life hungry, cold, scared.  He intended to never experience any of these, any inconvenience, any hardship again.  He demanded only the finest: the best champagne, the honeymoon suite, hand tailored suits, the most alluring and entertaining bed partners.  He had chosen the finest theives, killers and con-men to be his spiders and felt that everything else in his life should measure up.

Subsequently, Chrollo hated this motel, hated this job, and hated having to wait.  He was NOT happy.  He lay on his back on his sagging bed with it’s itchy sheets and glared at the stained ceiling.  The only reason he hadn’t blown town was that he had given his word and Chrollo never broke his word.  He was a man without morals, but his honor was impeccable.

But, selfishly and a bit spitefully, if he wasn’t happy, then he didn’t want _anyone_ to be happy.

 

Feitan stood in front of the second of a pair of soda machines.  The left one was Pepsi, the right one Coke.  Feitan was a coke man.

It was dark and quiet, probably around two AM.  It was slightly chilly but Feitan didn’t notice in his black boots, black trousers, long black tunic and a nifty scarf with a skull on it, pulled up over his mouth.  The walkway where Feitan stood stretched out in either direction, numbered doors on one side, parked cars on the other.  The florescent light closest to their room was out, making a dark spot along the walkway.  The entire motel was on the ground floor.  A giant “V” of tiny, ratty, rooms with a tiny, ratty, office at the end of one arm.

Feitan was sharing with Phinks and he’d seen their room.  It was clean but the carpet was threadbare, the blankets thin, the sink and shower stained permanently with crud he didn't even want to think about.

The air conditioner under the window coughed and clattered and barely cooled the room in the heat of the day.

Phinks had collapsed onto the double bed and was snoring within minutes of their checking in.

There had only been the two rooms available and Chrollo insisted on a room by himself (he always got his own room in every 5 star hotel they’d ever been in and he god damned well was going to in a seedy No Tell motel.)  Phinks and Feitan had taken Shalnark in happily.  There was an ancient 1950 retro sofa in bile green in Fei’s room.  It was worn but surprisingly comfortable.  They’d thrown on sheets, blanket, and pillow, and installed Shalnark.  Shal had been reading in his makeshift ‘bed’ and Phinks had been snoring at the ceiling in the double bed when Feitan slipped out.

 

Feitan chose a drink from the big red box.  Diet Coke.  It rumbled down and he extracted it from the machine.  It was icy cold.  Nice.

The small spider hesitated, he wasn’t sleepy but there was nowhere to go, nothing to entertain him.  Shal was busy, Phinks asleep, and Chrollo … well, Chrollo needed his space just then.

Faint music reached Feitan’s ears.

He looked around.

Apparently, at the end of other arm of the “v” of rooms, was a tiny dive bar.

Feitan expected to see drunks and idiots but it was the back and all he saw was a woman sweeping up under the streetlamp that illuminated a half circle of the parking lot just outside the bar’s back door.

He meandered that way through the darkness.

 

The woman was tall, dark haired, curvy, and had on a black apron.  She was humming to herself.  Feitan edged up close.  It was a nursery song that he remembered from Meteor City.  Her short hair swung around her face as she gracefully swept.

She caught sight of him and stopped sweeping, smiling at him.  If she thought his attire was odd, she showed no sign.

“If you want a drink you’d better hurry, it’s almost closing time.”

She spoke in English.  Feitan knew the language … sort of.

He was just not a conversationalist.  His clipped and choppy rendering of Japanese was bad enough but he also had zero social skills.  Trying to speak with women made it ten times harder.  Feitan fidgeted with his hands.

The seconds stretched out.  

The woman’s smile faded and she cocked her head to one side.

Feitan decided that she was kind of pretty.

That revelation just made things worse.

Abruptly he raised the Diet Coke.

“Ah,” she said, the smile returning, “You’re all set, then!  Is there anything else I can get you?  I’m Kara by the way!”

_A kiss?_

Feitan blushed under his scarf, then pulled it up more firmly over his lower face.  He shook his head mutely.  

_What in the world was he thinking?_

He’d never really spoken at length to a woman who wasn’t in the Troupe.  If he met someone, any gender, who seemed relatively clean and likely to let him fuck them then he asked if he could.  There was no kissing, no words, no names, and a lot of times; no bed.

Feitan didn’t think that this woman was in that same class.  At all.  He would have to do what other people did, people who weren't shy introverted psychotic killers.  What would a guy do?  A _normal_ guy?  Talk to her?  Flirt with her?!  The thought made him hot all over.

Deep inside somewhere, though, it also made him sort of happy and excited, to talk with a woman, actually _talk_.

But the woman opened her mouth as if to speak and Feitan panicked.  He pulled his scarf higher and stared hard at his feet.

Before she could react to his nervous gestures he had turned away and blended into the night.

 

Before dawn he had masterbated twice, locked in the little bathroom in their room, thinking of her.

\---

It didn’t take Phinks a half hour to sniff out the woman in the morning.

He was back in the room; one egg, cheese, and sausage sandwich in his mouth, one in one hand, and a greasy bag in the other.

He tossed the bag to Shalnark and removed the first sandwich from his maw.  Mayonnaise had dripped down from the side of his mouth.

“Pretty girl in that bar across the way,” he announced around an enormous bite of sandwich. “Name’s Kara an’ she’ll make foo’ if you asthk,”

“Swallow, idiot!” Feitan said, frowning, “You spit crumbs all over me!”

He was not pleased that Phinks had discovered the woman.  If Phinks knew, Chrollo would know the instant he woke up, and if anyone had a chance of getting a leg over, it was Chrollo.  A good fuck would perk him right up, pull him out of his little bad patch.

Shalnark tapped Feitan’s shoulder with a wax paper wrapped sandwich.  Feitan took it, still scowling.

\---

Feitan made sure to need a diet coke a bit before 2 am.

The woman appeared again, right on cue, hosing down various rubber mats off of the bar and the sinks.  The water droplets winked like golden stars under the old sodium vapor streetlight.  

Feitan drifted close, mesmerised.  

He saw that she was barefoot.  He wasn’t sure he’d seen a grown woman barefoot before - outside of Meteor City.  Feitan found it almost erotic, seeing a part of a woman that he’d very rarely seen.  OK, he found it _very_ erotic.  She had slender ankles and pale, pretty feet, that splashed playfully in the puddles of water.  Feitan had never put his hands on a woman’s feet, ever.  He imagined touching them, rubbing them, warming them in his hands after being in the chilly water.  His dick woke up to say that it approved of this idea.

She was singing this time and as she sprayed, she danced.  Twirling around in the water, singing to herself, she sprayed the mats clean.

Feitan had no idea what to say to her or what to do around her but he knew he wanted … something.  He crept closer.

She accidentally misdirected a spray and it got her right in the face.  Rather than being angry, she laughed, sputtering.

Feitan smiled then.

Suddenly she noticed him.

“Oh, Hey!”  She said. “Diet Coke again?”

Feitan looked down at the soda then back up.

He couldn’t think of what to do.

What he _wanted_ to do was tell her how prettily she sang, and how lovely her hair looked swinging at her jawline.  He wanted to tell her how happy it made him, seeing her dancing on her pretty feet and singing in the night.  He wanted to smile at her and maybe touch her.  He wanted.

“ _Can_ you talk?” she asked curiously, coming closer.

Feitan nodded, sweating slightly at her proximity.

She cocked her head to the side like she had done before.  Feitan thought it was adorable.

“What’s your name?”

“Feitan,” Feitan blurted.

His low whispery voice seemed to startle her.  She cleared her throat.

“Fay-ee-tan,” she murmured, “Feitan,”

Feitan felt his cock swell just at her saying his name.

He was suddenly embarrassed, even though she would have no way of knowing about his hard-on.  His tunic hid a multitude of sins including his fat, pretty cock that he’d _really_ like to sin with.

“I go,” he said suddenly, and raising a slender white hand in a half-wave, slid into the darkness.

“Feitan,” the woman said speculatively.

 

Feitan had to go straight into the tiny bathroom in their room and jerk off into the shower.  He imagined fucking her, kneeling over her plush body, her long legs in the air, pretty pale feet in his hands, her saying his name over and over as he sank his cock into her.

Afterwards he chastised himself as he rinsed the tub.  He wasn’t going to be able to just say “Hi, I want to put my dick in you.”  She would have to _want_ to, have to to _like_ him.  If he wanted her to like him he was going to have to talk to her.  Oh god.  And even then it might not work.  Why couldn’t he be tall and gorgeous and charismatic like Chrollo?

 

The next night she was actually waiting for him.  She sat on a bench outside the door.  There was a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass beside her.  She held a second glass with a good two shots in, sipping it.

He materialised out of the night at 2:11.  He’d seen her waiting, of course, and had hung around until the bar was closed.

He hesitated as she smiled at him, then quickly, bravely, crossed to sit on the bench with her.  The bench in question was about six feet long.  Feitan sat as far away from her as he could.  He felt as if she was emitting intense heat.  His face felt hot.

She gestured at the empty glass,

“Bourbon?”

Feitan nodded.

She poured it with the deftness of a bartender and held it up.

Feitan raised his hand then paused.  She wasn’t handing him the glass.  She held it toward him but only about a foot from her shoulder.  He couldn’t reach it unless he came closer.

She smiled then, her eyes glittering.

Feitan’s breath caught in his throat.  Was she being … playful? He was aware that his face was red and his heart was hammering.  This was ridiculous.  He could kill a group of six foot tall, 200lb men effortlessly.  Surely he could slide down a bench.

He gingerly scooched closer, maybe a foot or so.  Still too far away.  He chewed his lip.  Here was a woman he’d love to fuck but he couldn’t sit close to her?

Kara decided for him, sliding down the bench until they were almost touching.  Feitan blushed, stared at the ground, looked up at her, stared at the ground some more.  He took a deep breath.  He reached blindly for the drink and tipped the entire contents down his throat.

When he looked at the woman again she looked startled.

“More?”

“Please.” he whispered hoarsely, returning the glass.

Before she could pour it, across the parking lot, a door to one of the motel rooms opened suddenly, light pouring out onto the shadowy spot on the walkway.  It was Feitan’s room and it was Phinks who stumbled out, dressed only in his tracksuit bottoms, a frown on his face.  He looked up and down the walkway in both directions then scanned the parking lot.  His gaze lit on the bartender on the bench in the cone of light from the streetlamp and he blushed and nodded at her.  He immediately raised a hand to nervously slick his blond hair back.

“Is he with y--?” she asked, turning to the small thief.

But Feitan was gone, without a sound, back into the darkness.

\---

Feitan materialised out of the night  the next time at 1:58.

She was just getting done with the trash.

“Hey,” she said smiling, genuinely happy to see him.

“Not closing time,” he observed.

She hummed.

“Yep, no customers this late.  Everyone went to the fair.”

Feitan frowned.

“Fare?”

The woman looked aghast at him,

“Yeah the fair.  Don’t you have fairs where you come from?”

He just stared at her.

“Oh my god, then, come on!”

To his utter shock, she grabbed his hand and tugged him along behind her.  They walked through the darkness around the side of the bar.  She pointed.

Feitan gasped.

There was a massive circle of lights against the sky, the top half of the arc well above the treeline.

“What … ?” Feitan breathed, “What that is?”

“It’s the fair.  That’s the ferris wheel.  You’ve never seen a ferris wheel?”

Fetan stared at it, fascinated.

“It’s a ride,” She said, “At the fair.  There’s rides and food and games all under the lights  …”

It finally clicked,

“Ah!  We have!”  Feitan searched his brain.  He didn’t know the english word for festival, “Like that …” he concluded lamely.

Suddenly Feitan realised that she still held his hand.  He carefully didn’t move.  He could hear his own heart beating fast.

_Could she not hear that?_

Kara gazed up at the ferris wheel’s lights for several minutes then suddenly spoke,

“I wish _we_ could go.  To the fair, I mean.”

Feitan held his breath.  He had no idea how to deal with this situation. The very suggestion was unreal to him.  Him?  Feitan of the Gen’ai Ryodan walking through a festival like a normal person, with a girl, winning prizes for her, eating food with her.  Something other than just meeting then fucking?  He was stunned, excited, confused, and a little bit scared.

He reluctantly released these fantasies and let his breath out slowly.  He said the words quietly that were screaming unhappily in his brain:

“I leave soon,”

She nodded, looking at the ground.  She raised her head, looked at him in the faint light.

“Feitan, why did you come over here?  Why do you come over every night?”

Feitan regarded the inky blackness that was the ground.  He chewed on his lower lip.

“Feitan …”

Feitan loved hearing her say his name.  Not that he would admit that.  What would he admit?  He swallowed hard.

“See … you,”  he finally said, barely a whisper.

“But you _know_ you’re leaving soon,” Her voice was getting higher pitched and breaking.  Feitan stared at her face, faint in the darkness.

“So … so… wh-why …?”

_Was she crying?_

Without thinking, Feitan pulled her to him, awkwardly pressing himself against her, arms around her.  He suddenly wasn’t thinking about having sex with her, just that he liked her, liked being close to her.  He didn’t just want to just fuck her, he wanted to be with her.

She squeaked, startled, then leaned into him, both hands fisted into the front of his tunic.

Abruptly she pressed both hands against his chest and pushed away,

Feitan’s breath hitched at the sudden lack of her.

“I need to go,” she said, low, twisting out of his arms and disappearing.

Feitan stood in the darkness for a while, backlit by the ferris wheel lights, staring at the ground.

“Stupid. _Stupid!”_ He said out loud, alone beside the building.

“Idiot to think she might like …”

The little thief was familiar with this dance.  It happened now and again. Not often at all; just enough to make it hurt like a bitch every time.  Meet an actual _nice_ girl, a smart girl, crush on her, obsess about her, finish their job, and then … leave.  Never see her again.

Feitan kicked savagely at the ground with one black booted toe.

“She no need me.  Plenty tall, pretty guys out there …”

  


When he got back to the motel room he jerked off nonetheless, imagining her pinned to the wall of the bar, legs over his arms, as he thrust up into her warmth. After he came, he felt something else, something he’d never felt before, something painful in his chest.

\---

Meanwhile Chrollo was still up.  He walked around his room in just his black leather trousers, fidgeting, and talking to himself.  He had spotted Feitan crossing the lot back toward his room but didn’t think much about it.

Too distracted.

Too tense.

Chrollo needed this deal to move forward.

Chrollo needed to leave this shitty motel and get back to his collection of books.

Chrollo needed some relief, some release.

He purposely stayed away from his spiders.  He knew how tightly wound he was and didn’t want something regrettable to happen.  He paced, swinging his arms violently wide then back in, trying to stretch, work out the kinks, calm his mind.

 

The next night Kara never appeared outside the back of the bar at all.  Feitan stalked the door but it never even opened.

The night after that, she very quickly took out the trash, way early, and then disappeared back inside.

The next day Chrollo finally met with his contact.

 

And found out the job had been cancelled.  

 

The mark had rolled his Bugatti on the South bypass and gotten himself spread like jam onto the tarmac.

 

Chrollo needed to _kill something_ or he was going to go insane.

He threw his phone against the wall and viciously pulled open the Mini-Bar, setting the tiny bottles chittering against one another.

 

The little dive bar opened at 4pm.  At 3:55 Feitan was watching the front door.  He had to at least _see_ her one last time.

Behind him, past the trees, where he couldn't see, they were dismantling the Ferris wheel.  Time for the fair to leave town, to move on.

At exactly 4 she appeared, turning over the closed sign on the door and turning on the neon sign proclaiming “OPEN”.  She had her broom and was sweeping off the tiny concrete ‘porch’ that was under the overhang.

Feitan licked his lips.  She was in black leggings and a fitted black shirt and Feitan thought a man could go crazy with how easy it would be to squeeze her lovely ass.  If she was his.  His.

 

After she disappeared inside, Feitan sidled up to the door in complete silence, eased it open, and slipped in after her.  

Now to find her.  

And explain to her that he had no experience with relationships.

And convince her that he’d never meant to hurt her.  

And apologise to her.

And then leave her.

 

The lights were still off and it was dark and cool in the bar, the only lights were strings and strings of white fairy lights around the bar.  They reminded him of the Ferris wheel sparkling in the night.

Ah, there she was, behind the bar.  Feitan moved carefully forward.

He kept nervously smoothing his hair down - it did no good, the unruly mass popped right back up into untidy spikes.  She came back around the bar and Feitan stepped in front of her.  The faint glow from the strings of lights bathed her face.

She gave a little shriek and he held up both hands.

She crossed her arms tightly,

“I thought you were gone,”

“Soon.  Want to see you.   _Need_ to see you.”

“Well, you’ve seen me …”

Feitan reached out, actually touched her with one slender, pale, hand.

“Please?”

She sighed then, scrubbing her face with both hands.

“You want a diet coke?”

“Want you,”

She pulled a face and he eased closer.

“I kiss?”  He whispered.

Her eyes went wide and the seconds stretched out.

He studied her face, trying to guess what she was thinking.

Kara nodded suddenly, quickly.  He could have his kiss.

Feitan pressed against her with a small moan, one strong arm around her waist, holding her firmly to him, and the other on her ass, fingers sliding under her waistband, squeezing gently.

She ducked her head just as he looked up and they kissed.  It was quick and chaste and Feitan knew he wanted more.

His right hand shifted and he was gripping her ass harder, squeezing, fondling.  His left hand came up and around the back of her neck, pulling her down to his eager mouth.

Much, much better.  Her tongue danced with his, they nipped each other’s lips, licked deep inside one another’s mouth.

 

They clung together and she could feel his erection through his tunic.  She rocked her hips side to side giving him the friction his cock wanted so badly.  He groaned and kissed her again.

“What do you do?” she whispered, ”after you leave?  I mean when you get back to your room?”

Feitan knew exactly what he did.  He blushed fiercely and remained silent.

“Do you think about me?  Tell me,”

Feitan cleared his throat.

“Feitan …?”

“I … I do stuff.”

He heard her slow intake of breath.

“LIke what kind of stuff?”

“Touch myself,” he whispered.

Her fingers danced down the front of his tunic to dwell on the tent made by his erect cock.  Feitan hissed in a breath. She stroked lightly.

“Like this?”

“Nnnnh!”  Feitan’s hips bucked up, pushing his hard-on into her hand.

“Show me,”

Feitan went brick red.  She wanted him to … _jerk off in front of her_ ? He hemmed and hawed, trotted out a half a dozen reasons in his mind why this was crazy but in the end he knew he _wanted_ to.  He wanted to show her how he felt, show her his eager cock, cum for her.

He hesitated just a moment longer then his tunic was rucked up and his black trousers shoved down.

His dick was beautiful, good sized, fat, and curved.  When she reached for it he gasped.

_Oh.  OH.  She wanted to get him off!  Oh god, oh god._

She gripped his dick loosely and let her breath out in a shaky sigh.  Just the touch of her hand made the spider's cock swell and throb.  Feitan tried to let the sensation of the soft fingers linger but he wasn’t that strong.

“M-move hand,”

Kara began a slow, lazy stroke and Feitan’s head lolled back.  “Ah … Ah!  Feel so good!  G-go fast. More … fast … ah!”

She had a quick steady rhythm going when she went down on her knees in front of him.  Feitan whined in need, then cried out when when she took more than half of him in her hot and talented mouth.  She sucked and bobbed in rhythm with her hand and Feitan grabbed a double handful of her hair and tipped his head back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open.

“Ahh, ahh, ahh!  Like that … ahh!  Like that …”

He was so close, so so close.  Her wet mouth had brought him to the edge that quickly and he knew that if he looked at her, saw her letting him fuck that beautiful mouth, he would cum immediately.  He didn’t want to cum yet.

He couldn’t help himself.

He looked.

The sight of her lips stretched around his cock took him apart.  He began thrusting, then her gaze met his and he was bent over, grunting and cumming, cumming down her throat.

After he rode out his bliss he was set to apologise profusely when he realised she’d tidily swallowed every drop of cum.  The only other person who had ever done that with him was Chrollo.

He was in awe.

He fell to his knees as well and kissed her roughly, desperately, tasting his salty release on her tongue.  They stood up together, never breaking the kiss.

They then proceeded to shamelessly, breathlessly, make out, giggling against each other’s skin like two teenagers.  Feitan pushed her up against the wall of the bar, small hands up under her shirt, finding her nipples, rolling them, as they explored each other’s mouth.  She kissd and sucked at him, holding his face in both hands and he grabbed her ass in both of his.

Then there was a tiny noise.

The noise was so small even Feitan almost missed it.

There was only one person, other than Feitan, who could move this stealthily.

_Chrollo._

 

Feitan pulled back from Kara, one finger to his lips.

She frowned but kept still.

_“Feitan,”_

Chrollo’s voice was as rich and smooth as honey and as dangerous as snake venom.  But something was off.  Feitan frowned.

“What’re you doing, Fei?”

Chrollo spoke English much better than his small spider and he spoke it now, easing out of the shadows, into the dim light.  “I thought we had an unnerstanding.  No ou’siders.  ‘Specially on jobs.  If you must, hit it, and get back to work.”

He sounded sad, disappointed, but also strange, tense, on edge.  He was definitely slurring his words.

_Was Chrollo drunk?_

“We not on job yet, Danchou,” Feitan said quickly, defensively,

Chrollo gestured violently and almost lost his balance, “And if we had to move … _fass_ where would we be without you?”

Feitan opened his mouth to protest - Chrollo _was_ drunk and he could be a nasty drunk - but the spider’s head cut him off,

“... You, over here in the dead of night, fugging some stranger …”

“Not fucking!” Feitan protested,

“Thass even worse!” Chrollo snapped. “What are you doing?  Getting to _know_ one another?  Becoming _frienss_?  Boyfrien’ - girlfrien’?  Exchanging ress-pees? Braiding each other’s hair?”

The small spider pulled Kara behind himself, standing, legs braced, between Chrollo and her.  He regarded his boss and best friend, head lowered, looking out from under his fine black brows.

“We just talk!”

“You’w’re doing more than juss talking a minute ago,” Chrollo said, silkily, dangerously.  “You had your _dick inner mouth_!

Feitan blushed scarlet.

“W-we just been talking.  She show me Fare-is wheel … Danchou please, you drunk ...”

“NA DRUNK!” Chrollo roared and had to grab the back of a chair to keep from falling.  “You ov’r here getting this fine piece-a-ass and I’m over there - he threw his arm out violently in the general direction of his motel room - inna _crappy_ room with _crappy_ sheets, _nobody_ ta kill, an’ … an’ …”

The leader of the Phantom troupe had lost his train of thought.  He swayed in place, studying the linoleum floor owlishly.

Feitan eased gingerly towards his best friend.  Kara followed, clinging to him.

Abruptly Chrollo jerked his head up, took a step, and, reaching around Feitan, he grabbed Kara by her shirt, dragging her forward.  Feitan, sandwiched between them, tried to push them apart until he saw the glint of steel.  Chrollo had drawn his Bens knife.

Feitan shoved his friend hard then and followed him as he staggered back.  He wrapped both arms around Chrollo’s waist and pressed his face into his side.

“Danchou!  Danchou!  Please!  Please no!”

Everyone froze.

Feitan gasped in tortured breaths and clung to chrollo’s shirt.  

Chrollo … ahh, Chrollo.  He looked down at him almost puzzledly, as if he didn’t know what was going on, what had happened.  His beautiful face was shocked, confused.

“Fei …” He began.

“It Ok, Danchou, it OK.  We get you some water, OK?”

 

Three minutes later Chrollo sat in a plastic chair, sipping some ginger ale.  Feitan, who was carefully wrapping the poisoned Bens knife in a bar towel spoke quietly into Chrollo’s phone that he had pinched between his jaw and shoulder.

Chrollo tipped his chin up and regarded Kara.  He swayed slightly in his seat despite the two aspirin and large glass of water he’d consumed.

“Like you!” he announced, sounding for all the world like Feitan with his mangled English. “I would fugg you too!” he concluded, trying to get his ginger ale to his lips.  Kara had to help him.

“You like my frien’ Faitan?!” he demanded suddenly.  He was speaking very loudly as if Kara was deaf.

Kara sighed and opened her mouth to reply but he interrupted her,

“Well.  You had his dick in yer mouth so I ‘sume so.”  He managed to sip his drink without spilling half of it down his chin.

There was a pounding on the door and Feitan rushed to open it.  Phinks and Shalnark slipped in.

“You,” Chrollo continued, oblivious, “Should have his dick in yer … in yer …”  He squinted at Kara’s crotch and gestured with his free hand, apparently at a loss for a common term for vagina.  Phinks, who had just stepped up, went white.  Kara went red.  She scooted behind the bar, cheeks blazing.

“C-can I get you guys something?”

Shalnark, his ever-present smile dim, shook his head.

“I’m sorry but we have to go.”

Feitan’s head snapped up.

“Shal …”

“Sorry Fei,” the blonde man said, sincerely regretful, “we got nothing for all this time and trouble and we put off _two_ other jobs.  We _have_ to go,”

“Of course,” Kara said tightly.

The look on Feitan’s face seemed to sober Chrollo.

Phinks, Shal, and Chrollo filed out silently.  Feitan caught Kara’s gaze.

“Be back soon,”

She sighed, “Right.  Heard that before,”

“Mean it,” he whispered.

She shook her head and stared at the floor.  He looked stricken and slowly followed the other Troupe members out.

 

Ten days later, at about 2 am, Feitan sat on the ice machine of the C'm On Inn, legs tucked neatly under him, diet coke unopened in his hands.  He watched the back door to the bar with rapt absorption as if by sheer will he could make his bartender appear.  

After 15 minutes he sniffled and wiped his eyes.  

Definitely _not_ tearing up.

He’d walked around the side of the bar at nightfall.  He’d forgotten that the fair, and the ferris wheel with it, were gone.  He’d stood, hands deep in his pockets, frogs trilling in the darkness, and stared up at the empty purple dusk.  No lights glittering in the darkness like stars, no magical circle roated slowly against the dark sky.  He felt sad.  As if he’d missed something bright and amazing in his life.

At 2:20 Feitan had resigned himself.  She wasn’t going to show herself.  She’d washed her hands of the little spider she’d met in the night.

Feitan couldn’t say he blamed her.  He slowly set the unopened now-warm diet coke can on the ice machine and braced his hands to jump down.  

The back door to the bar opened.

Feitan froze.

Kara wandered out with some plastic drink crates.  She set them against the wall.

For a moment she just stood, looking into the darkness toward the road with it’s occasional double cones of headlights and hiss of tires on the tarmac.

She lifted up the hem of her apron and picked at the edge, running the fabric through her fingers, seemingly lost in thought.

Feitan frowned.

She wasn’t humming or dancing.  She didn’t smile.  She had on a sweatshirt, plain worn jeans that seemed a little too big, and sneakers.  She settled down on the bench and let her head tip back against the wall.

 

The top of the motel ice machine was suddenly empty.

 

Feitan came out of the darkness like a ghost, just barely into the circle of light.  Kara started.

“Really?  Twice?  Why aren't you gone?”

Feitan chewed his lip and stared at the ground.

Kara sniffled suddenly and wiped at her face.

Feitan came closer.

“P-please don’t,” she said, “just dont”

The spider stopped.  He put his hands in his pockets and hunched down into his scarf.  He pulled his hands back out and fidgeted with his diet coke.

He took a deep breath.

“Miss ...  you …”

Kara suddenly began crying in earnest, as if a floodgate had opened.  It was quiet, just muffled sobs and her own shaking shoulders but Feitan appeared beside her.  He reached out tentatively and lightly rubbed her back.  That’s what he did for Chrollo or Phinks if they were sick.

 

There were different types of courage.  Feitan could face a dozen armed men and have the courage to wade into them, but he didn’t have the guts to chastize his Danchou if he drank too much and made bad decisions.  He’d never had the courage to ask a nice girl if he could kiss her but he found the courage to explain how he felt to this one.

“I … I wish I stay here.  With you.”

Kara’s breath hitched.

“Like I wish we go to Fare,”

Feitan twisted his fingers.

“But I got … life.  Job.  Bad job …”

Kara looked at him then, eyes red.

He seemed to come apart under her gaze,

“I … I not nice person, K-kara.  I hurt people,”

The bartender’s eyes widened but she showed no revulsion or fear.

“I not do that to you.  I not bring that …” he struggled with the language a moment, “... to you,”

Kara opened her mouth to speak but he put two pale slender fingers over her lips.

“I come see you?”

Kara looked as if she might cry again.

“I come see you,” he said, struggling to make her understand, “You like Fare-is wheel!  I no get to Fare but get to see Fare-is wheel, pretty, in night.”

Feitan blushed and studied the toes of his boots.  When he spoke it was a whisper,

“Like you … pretty in night,”

 

They were walking through the bar from the back and made it as far as the pool table.  Feitan stopped her there.  He pushed her gently but firmly back against the side.  He masaged her hips and looked earnestly into her eyes, his almost steely grey ones wide.

Her tongue peeked out, swiping her lower lip.  Feitan stared, fascinated.  He ran the calloused pads of two fingers over that tempting lip.  It was soft like velvet.

His brain suddenly presented to him the image of those lips stretched around his hard cock and he groaned, pressing against her.

“I kiss again?” He asked huskily.

The very edges of her mouth tipped up into a smirk and Feitan was running his hand up her back and into her hair, dragging her head down, going up on his tip-toes to kiss her roughly, eagerly.  Her warm hand found his erection and squeezed and Feitan knew he was completely in her power.

He tried bravado.  It was hard with your legs trembling, but he tried.

“You be good girl, I fuck you good,” He growled as commandingly as the almost mindlessly horny little thief could manage.

In response, her hand slipped down his clothed length and gently gripped his balls, rolling them, fondling them through the fabric.

Feitan’s next sound was a needy, tortured whine.

The little spider knew he was fucked, truly, utterly, fucked.  The only thing he could do now was fuck her well as a _thank you oh various gods for this woman_.

“G-get up on table,” he said

“You are not getting cum on my pool table,”  she said, scowling,

“Floor?’

She gave him a look that would singe ball hair.

Feitan, sporting a rock hard erection, looked around the bar, desperately.

_Ahh_

He grabbed her, startling her, and herded her toward one of the only three booths in the place.  He spun her around, back toward him, and pushed her to kneel on the vinyl of one seat.  The height was perfect.  He rubbed his hard-on against her ass and was rewarded with a low moan.

He yanked his tunic over his head and fished his cock out of his trousers, stroking the length slowly.

“Take off pants … slow,” he said, backing a step away from the booth, and her gorgeous ass.  It was getting hard to concentrate with most of his blood supply feeding his dick.  He licked his lips and tried to focus.

 

Kara put one foot on the floor and unbuttoned her jeans.  She shimmied her hips slowly, pulling the denim down lower.

Feitan was pumping his dick, eyes glued to the action.  Men were so visual.  He was practically drooling.

Finally her underpants were revealed, plain white cotton with a bit of silvery grey lace.  As she wriggled her trousers down more, Feitan could see that the crotch of said underpants was damp.  She was already wet.

That was it.  Fuck it.  He had no more control left.

Kara heard his knees hit the linoleum behind her.  One small, strong hand gripped her thigh painfully tight and the other pulled her underpants slowly down.  She heard his low groan of pure lust.

She jumped when his mouth came down on her ass then relaxed into his licks and bites.  Then he suddenly was at her wet pussy.  He didn't give her a chance to react or protest but thrust his surprisingly long tongue into her depths, curling the tip, probing.

Kara found herself fucking back on that glorious tongue while his hands massaged her ass.

Abruptly his breathing went ragged and one hand disappeared.  He quickly moved his attention to her clit.  Kara jumped at the sudden change of venue and arched her back, an embarrassing squeal escaping her as he sucked gently.

Oh god, she was gonna cum, she was gonna cum …

“Fei … tan!  Oh!  Oh!  OHHH! GOD! FUCK!”

The little thief dipped his fingers happily into the slippery stuff dripping from her and slathered his own cock, giving it a few quick pulls.

He stood.

Kara wriggled her hips, wanting his cock.

“Be patient,” he said, gripping her tight, “Be patient, girl, I fuck you good,”

“Nnnh, Feitan, please!  Do it, please!”  She thrust backwards, needy, needing him in her wet hole.

“Shit, shit, shit,” the thief breathed, trembling, fumbling, as he lined his throbbing cock up.  He lunged forward, slipping into her,

“Tight!  So - uhnnh - tight!”

He was bigger than she was used to, clearly, and he had to work himself in.  He tried to do so gently, his lip caught in his teeth, but her little gasps and whines made him crazy.

Finally he was seated all the way in, balls deep.  Her pussy felt hot as a furnace.  Feitan leaned over her back.

“What you want?” he asked, low, his hands stroking the muscles of her back.

Kara looked over her shoulder at him, her expression blissed out.

Feitan pulled out slightly then rocked his hips forward.

She squeaked and panted,

“What you want me do?  Tell me …”

“Oh Feitan … Oh Feitan, please fuck me.  Please, please, fuck me!”

The small thief didn’t need to be asked twice.

He thrust gingerly until she relaxed then he went harder, faster.  Soon he was pounding into her, gasping for breath, fingers bruising her hips.  She gave a breathless shriek each time he bottomed out and Feitan thought he might go mad.  He wanted to cum in her.  He’d wanted to cum in her from the first night he saw her.  He let his hand wander around underneath her, down her sides, across her soft belly, into her silky thatch of pubic hair,  to end up at her dripping wet pussy.  He found what he was looking for, her swollen clit, and pressed and then rubbed and then she was cumming again, screaming his name as he pistoned into her.

When he came he saw white.  For a second he actually thought he’d passed out.  Then he was laid over her back, gasping, clinging onto her for fear he’d actually slide onto the floor.

  


Later, Kara had flipped over and leaned back, half sitting, half lying.  The old booths, their vinyl soft with wear, were horseshoe shaped and thickly padded and quite comfortable, considering.  Feitan lay mostly on her, his dark head on her belly, their legs tangled together.  She combed her fingers through his straight black hair and he hummed in pleasure, running his small hand up and down her side.  He propped his chin on his hand and looked at her.

“Gotta leave,” he said sadly, faintly dramatically

She cocked her head, waiting, the very hint of a smile around the corners of her mouth.

He ducked his head and kissed over her ribs.  When he met her gaze again, he was looking coyly out from under long black lashes.

“Go again?”

Kara burst into laughter,

“Again?  We’ve done it twice!  You’ve cum three times, you beast!”

They grinned at each other and Feitan started to climb up her body, peppering kisses here and there.

“Beast who love fucking you,” he said and sucked an erect nipple into his mouth.

Kara let her head drop back onto the red upholstery,

“Oh! Uuunnh!”

Feitan kissed and sucked upward, murmuring as he went,

“Love be inside of you … love fill you up .. so hot, so tight, so …”

 

“I thought you might have had a bit of … _difficulty_ getting moving,”

 

Kara squeaked and tensed up, Feitan let his head drop onto her collarbone with a sigh.

“Fuck … Shal,”  He said.  It was almost conversational.  Feitan turned his head.

The cute blonde smiled sweetly.  If the sight of Feitan’s bare ass and impressive hard-on bothered him he didn’t let on.  He waved his red phone cheerily.

“Danchou will start to wonder.  Come on.  You can come back another time.”

He smiled benevolently at Kara.  Neither he or she seemed disturbed by her nakedness either.

Feitan pouted.

“But Shal … just few minutes more.”

Shalnark’s smile broadened, “I’m pretty sure what you’re planning will take longer than a few minutes …”  Feitan had the good grace to blush,

Shal’s baby blue eyes took on a sharp impish gleam and his smile broadened.  He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Phinksy’s in the car.  I could send _him_ in …”

Feitan scrambled, searching for his clothes.  He kissed Kara quickly,

“I call you later,”

“Hey wait, what?” Kara said, laughing. “That’s the tall blonde guy, right?  What’s wrong with him?”

Feitan, in just his trousers and boots leaned in for another quick kiss.

“‘Cause!  That big idiot see you naked, I have to kill him!”

The little thief stomped out into the bright morning sunlight, Shalnark laughing behind him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So so sorry! I am in the midst of a hell of a writer's block. :(  
> If this sucks then that's the explanation!  
> Or maybe that I just suck. Who knows?
> 
> ANYway, thank you so much for reading! <3  
> If you have anything nice or constructive to say, please comment! It means the world to me and helps me keep writing. :D


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